Start the Spark in My Heart
by NineStoicCrayolas
Summary: She was born on the Eve of the Winter Solstice, just as the dawn touched the darkness of the black sky, streaking past the milky stars and the darkened, heavy clouds. Eyja Mikaelson was formidable, and fundamentally different from her siblings.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own The Originals.

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She was born on the eve of the Winter Solstice, just as the dawn touched the darkness of the black sky, streaking past the milky stars and the darkened, heavy clouds. She was a small child, underdeveloped and born far, far too early, with tiny little fingers and toes and a red, red rosebud mouth. Her cries echoed out into the morning, her tiny arms flailing as her father lifted her high, wiping off the blood from her face and body, carefully, tenderly.

Ayanna, the dark-haired, dark-eyed witch who had been present for all the Mikaelson's births tended to the screaming child quickly, snipping the cord that linked her to her mother and wrapping her in wolf furs tightly, with deft, quick movements before passing her back to her awaiting father.

Esther moaned, trying to get the cramps out of her back as she trembled, attempting to lift her head to see her youngest child. It had been a difficult, brutal labor, even harder than Niklaus's and Henrik's, and it had lasted for hours upon hours, the pain only strengthening with each passing moment. She winced, biting back a pained yelp as her muscles shook with the effort of getting up. Ayanna eased a wet, dampened cloth over her brow and Esther sighed in relief, glad that she was able to cool down, even as worry ran rampant as butterflies in her stomach.

"...Esther...Mikael…" Ayanna began quietly, biting her lip, her arms crossing over her chest. "There might be a couple of...problems when it comes to the child."

Mikael stiffened, his stormy gaze lifting from his youngest child and fixating on the dark-eyed woman. Esther's eyes widened and her throat dried, her breathing coming in rasps. "What do you mean, Ayanna? You said she was fine when she was born."

Ayanna nodded, then weaved her fingers together before she started. "The girl is healthy, yes, but she was born premature. She is too small, too fragile and there could be a chance that she does not make it because of that. I did not wish to say anything but...she could become severely ill, especially with the cough that has been going around lately. You are to be careful, Esther. If you want your child to live...you must be very, very careful."

There was a reigning silence that filled the room, one that Esther was having trouble breathing through, the tears that appeared in her eyes stinging her nose. "Thank you, Ayanna."

The other woman nodded, her eyes creased in sympathy.

After Esther had assured Ayanna that everything was alright and that she could take it from here and that yes, she would call for her if she was in need, her friend left, whispering a prayer for the newborn that lay in her husband's arms.

"Easy, my wife." Her husband said quietly as Esther struggled to rise, not looking up from the babe and she realized, that for the first time in a very, very long time, he had quieted, his usually stormy gaze fixated on the child that lay fussy and drowsy in his arms. A part of Esther, a long, buried part of her, rose with shining hope, remembering the days where her husband had rejoiced being a father, his carefree laughter running out of his lips as his eyes followed little Finn and—

Her hope was swallowed and broken as a frown filled her husbands' face. The cold, hardened gleam returned to his eyes and Esther wanted to cry; cry for herself, her children, her newest daughter whose existence would already be tried by her father's stone heart.

"How is she?" Esther burst out, unable to quite stop herself from worrying as she recalled the hard, desperate birth and the sharp, tangent fear that she had felt when Ayanna had told her of the possibility that her daughter might not survive the labor. "My child, is she safe?"

Mikael just watched his newest daughter in quiet, cold contemplation before he lifted gray eyes to her own gaze. "Nothing is wrong with her, as Ayanna said...but she is right when she says the babe is too small."

Esther breathed out a sigh of relief despite the way he ended his thought, the muscles in her lower back and legs shaking with the effort of holding herself up. She smiled, wide and aching before she lifted her arms, asking for her husband to leave the girl in her protected hold.

Mikael lowered her gently, supporting her head as well as he could and placed her daughter in Esther's awaiting arms. She sucked in a sharp, shocked breath at the sight that beheld her. Her littlest daughter was perfect; her cheeks puffed out, making her look a little like a chipmunk as she regarded her mother. Her nose was dainty and delicate, much like Rebekah's and her lips were luscious and red, just like Niklaus's. It was her eyes however, lazy, amber eyes with the quickening of intellect that bored into her face, that reminded her of-

"The color is different but...She looks like...She has-" Esther began, remembering the memories of long ago, the little girl that had succumbed to an untimely fate, sealing her husband's heart in a tomb of stone.

Mikael looked away, his eyes glazed over with painful memories. "...She has Freya's eyes."

Esther nodded, unable to say anything for fear it would turn into a sob. Her youngest daughter relaxed into her hold and then her mouth kicked downwards, a yawn escaping her tiny, rosebud mouth as she mewed, turning her cheek searching for food.

Her husband watched, his eyes following the gentle movements of Esther's hands as his daughter fed, gulping down milk. Red-cheeked and flushed, her eyes blinking open and closed blearily before she snuggled deeper into Esther's hold, her tiny hand resting between her mother's breasts.

"What shall we call her?" Esther whispered in fear of waking the little girl.

"She might not make it. There is no point in naming a child destined to die."

" _Mikael."_ Esther breathed out, her eyes wide. "Don't say those things. We have to hope. We _have_ to."

He was still for a moment, before he sat down next to her, his hand rising as if of its own accord, and brushed the baby's head with graceful, calloused fingers. "...Eyja. Eyja Mikaelson."

Esther smiled, tired and exhausted, but Mikael was sure that in that moment, she looked like a thousand splendid suns.

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Tell me what you all think! I hope you enjoy :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own The Originals.

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Niklaus was worried.

He was worried about his Mother, and the baby, and the birth. Elijah had assured him, repeatedly, that Mother would be _alright,_ that the screams and sobs, and cries that sounded from the bedroom were normal. That _Mother would be alright, Niklaus, please don't worry,_ even though Niklaus could see the tightening of his older brother's jaw and tensing of his shoulders. Rebekah was clutching his hand, the terrified, anguished tears in her cornflower blue eyes shining brightly in the light of the midday. She had buried her head into Kol's neck, hoping that the screams would _stop._

Finn still brooded, eyes half-lidded and spiteful. There was a spark of worry in them, the chocolate brown churning with uneasiness, but Niklaus knew it was for Mother and not the little baby that grew in Mother's stomach. Henrik, barely two, and still unable to understand why his mother was screaming, whimpered at the sounds of her discomfort, and nuzzled into Elijah's stomach, hands placed over his ears to stop himself from hearing.

It was nearing high noon when the screams stopped.

Harsh, heavy breathing sounded from behind the oak door and Niklaus was sure that if Father found them listening there, at the door, he was going to be flogged for _sure._

He could still feel the ridges on his calves from the last time.

But he couldn't help it—he was curious.

Curious about the baby and how it would be like to have one in the home.

He didn't remember much of Kol's birth, only a measly year after his, nor of Rebekah's an exact nine months after Kol's himself. Henrik was more memorable, only because he was three and a half years younger than Niklaus—but even then, he didn't remember anything except the joy of having a new baby brother and his chubby, chubby cheeks.

They were so squishy, and soft, and warm, and he wondered if the new baby would have them too.

When Mother had told them that they were going to have a new sibling, Finn had scoffed, his from growing deeper. He was _twelve_ though, so Mother said he was prone to _mood swings._ Elijah had been thrilled, a new, happy light entering his brown eyes at the thought of his family growing even larger. Kol had been rather curious, head cocked, brown eyes blinking, but had ultimately lost interest, instead wanting to play his tricks on the village girls who scowled and shrieked when he went by. Rebekah and Henrik had been the most excited out of all of them, and Niklaus remembered all the wondering the two did—would it be a girl or a boy (mother was being particularly secretive about this one) would they love them? What was going to be their name? Would they have Elijah, Finn and Henrik's brown hair or Rebekah and Niklaus's blonde? Blue or brown eyes?

Niklaus himself, had been uneasy.

They were already a family of _six children._ And while that wasn't much—the hammersmith's family had _nine_ children and a tenth and eleventh one on the way, a seventh baby felt…excessive. What were they going to do with it, he wondered. Who was going to take care of it if Mother was gone?

Certainly not _him._

But his Mother had seemed so happy, so comfortable at being with child again, that Niklaus had relented his worries and doubts, and instead settled into her lap and let her drag her fingertips through his hair.

Father, on the other hand, was utterly impassive. His face hadn't twitched when Mother had told him she was pregnant. He had simply nodded, eyes pained, before going back to whittle another wooden animal outside, blonde brows drawn together in concentration.

The wait for the baby of course, was the most _frustrating period of time_ he had ever lived through. Rebekah and Henrik were inseparable and _unbearable_ , each all too excited for the newest addition to their family. Finn was moodier than ever, his scowls barely leaving his face, and he often left with father to bring back more game on days on end. Elijah, naturally, doted on their mother. If Esther needed a drink of water, he fetched it without complaint. If she shifted, he adjusted the blankets and haystacks. If she made a move to grumble, he would rub her stomach and hold her hand to calm her down.

He was in the middle of reminiscing about the awful cravings his mother had gone through—mashed potatoes, spiced with too much ginger, and pepper that made his mouth burn—when, suddenly, the door creaked open.

His father stood there, looming, an eyebrow raised. He looked gentler than Niklaus had ever remembered seeing him—there was a sort of pained flickering in his gaze and a troubled mouth that made him take a couple of steps backwards, a flinch beginning to rise.

Niklaus swallowed noisily, and Rebekah lifted her head from Kol's neck, cowering, just a little, at the imposing shadow their father created. Henrik straightened, anxious eyes appearing behind brown hair. His grip was still tight on Elijah's shirt, but he was biting his lip and squinting his eyes, and Niklaus knew he was trying his hardest to look brave.

"Father, we were just curious—"Elijah began, trying to appeal to their father's sense of logic, but Finn interrupted him bluntly.

"How is Mother?"

Mikael sighed, looking, for once, completely exhausted. He truly looked his age then, and rugged lines grooved deeper into his forehead, etching farther at his eyes and mouth. Niklaus watched him a little in awe, a little in fear, as the mighty Viking warrior ran a hand through his straw-blonde hair. His shoulders were sagging, and if he had been older, Niklaus might have noticed the way his eyes were shining, misty and gleaming in the filtering light of midday.

"It was a difficult birth…the baby…" Mikael began, and then trailed off, sighing.

Fear, sharp and bitter, like the taste of coppery blood and tears went straight to Niklaus's head, and for a moment, he wished he were younger so he too could grip Elijah's hand and try not to cry.

Father wouldn't like that though, _("You'll be acting like a warrior, boy, and warriors show nothing but ferocity.")_ , so, instead, Niklaus steeled himself and tried to assuage the worry that was fluttering in his stomach like a thousand moths.

His little sister, however, was not as contained.

"Is Mama okay? Is the baby okay?" Rebekah asked, her face going ashen, breathing hitching in worry. Her hold on his hand tightened to the point where her nails dug into his palms and nearly drew blood.

Niklaus remembered her only being this scared once—when Elijah accidentally fell from a tree and broke his arm clean in two.

"Esther is fine. The child…is small." Mikael paused, as if that was the most difficult pill to swallow. There was a startling, profound sense of relief that swept through him at the news, and he felt Rebekah's grip lessen. "You have a new sister."

Rebekah gasped in delight, an enormous smile spreading across her face, eyes sparkling with joy. Elijah's eyes gleamed with happiness, and even Kol let a smile flicker to his face, fond joy making the unusually sharp features softer. Henrik squealed in joy, his laughter echoing in the room like a songbird's chatter.

"A sister? Really, Father?" Rebekah beamed.

Mikael nodded, somehow even more aggrieved. "Her name...is Eyja. Eyja Mikaelson. But…she is small. And weak—delicate. She was born far too early..."

The fear, which had relented earlier, came back with a furious vengeance. _A sister. A little sister to protect and love and cherish._ Not like Rebekah—who was strong-willed and had a stubborn streak a mile wide, not like Rebekah who had Elijah and Kol wrapped around her slim fingers—but…a little sister. Niklaus had a sister and she…she was too small. Too brittle and weak…he bit his lip, drawing blood, and then soothed his tongue over the ravaged flesh. His father was saying something—

"She might not survive the winter if she doesn't get stronger."

Henrik paled so much Elijah had to steady him with his hand. Finn exhaled slowly, eyes calculating, but Niklaus knew that he was just as worried, because he too had stilled, hands curling into loose fists as if he could beat back the weakness himself. Tears returned to Rebekah's eyes and she let out a gasping cry, before she launched herself at him, nearly knocking him back into Kol, who had quieted as well, eyes wide and shocked.

Niklaus knew, then, just how much Kol felt for their littlest sister, because Kol was quiet, always too quiet whenever he was feeling too much. He wanted to lean over and hold his brother's hand too, but he stayed still and sent him a comforting glance.

Kol blinked once, twice, and then his usual carefree mask slipped on, only looking a little more strained then normal. Niklaus saw his hands tighten into fists though, like when Astrid Svannson had mocked Rebekah for her pale hair, and he knew Kol was more affected than he acted.

"Can we see her Father?" Elijah breathed out, snapping their father's attention back to the second oldest of his sons. "Even if she's too little…can we see her, please?"

Mikael remained impassive, all previous signs of exhaustion flowing from his face. Niklaus waited with baited breath, his eyes impossibly wide. Henrik, next to him, pressed his lips so hard they nearly disappeared in a straight, terrified line. Rebekah crushed him to her tightly, and the front of his tunic was splotchy with her tears.

"Very well." Father told them tersely. "You are to be quiet. Your Mother and the babe are resting. She's just going to sleep."

The door opened further, and there was a split second of dizziness as the light of day hit them full face, and Niklaus could barely stop himself or Rebekah from lurching forward and throwing themselves on the bed just to see. Their father ushered them in quietly, and little Henrik breathed out a gasp when they saw their mother on the bed, watching the little, squishy bundle in her arms.

She raised tired, glistening eyes towards them, and in that second, they looked like hardened, ice chips—gleaming, glistening—ready and waiting to keep from anything happening to the child in her arms.

At the sight of them, her severe expression melted, and the warmth returned to her delicate features, ice receding to a familiar river-blue color, the edge to her mouth lessening.

"Hello, my sweet darlings." Esther crooned, delight mellowing her voice.

"Mother," Finn answered back softly, worried as always, Niklaus thought a little scornfully. "Are you well?"

The rest of them tilted their heads, waiting for an answer. They knew not to crowd their mother is she wasn't of sane health—they had learned that lesson well, Niklaus himself on the end of a silver-studded belt.

She nodded, eyes twinkling, the mirth in them reminding Niklaus of Kol for a moment, and he knew just exactly where and how his younger brother had gotten his penchant for mischief.

"Come closer. Won't you? Come see your littlest sister." Mother said softly, beckoning them forward with a tilt of her chin. "Little Eyja is certainly not going to come to you."

Niklaus hesitated for a singular moment; terrified that if he got too close, his littlest sister would disappear into thin air, too _weak and brittle_ to survive the harsh winter. Rebekah and Henrik brought him out of it and soon, all six of the siblings leaned over to catch the sight of the youngest Mikaelson.

They gasped in union as they saw her.

She was pudgy, and squishy too, and her cheeks were puffed out and red, flushed with milk and sleep. Her tiny, soft hand was curled around his Mother's index finger, and Niklaus watched, captivated, as she breathed in and out slowly, her small chest rising and falling. A tuft of dark, chestnut brown hair flopped over the rest of her bald head and her tiny mouth scrunched in a sleepy line.

Later, centuries later, this was the moment he would pinpoint as the start of his love for Eyja Mikaelson. A small, defenseless, chubby baby, with closed amber eyes, and messy hair. His baby sister; _his family._

Later, this was the moment he would realize as the start of everything—the start of the glorious magnificence that was _Eyja Mikaelson_ , the mighty warrior, the fierce defender.

But for now, gazing into the face of his littlest sister, he felt a bone-deep, clawing love fill his soul, and he could barely breathe.

 _Mine,_ he thought. _This one is mine. My sister, my blood, my_ _ **family.**_

"She's so tiny." Kol breathed. "…Is that what Father meant when he said she was too small?"

Their mother's head shot up so quickly, Niklaus was almost scared it would snap. Her eyes burned with a fire that he hadn't seen until then, turning her river-blue eyes into frigid, terrifying ice chips once again.

Mikael did not shrink from her gaze, facing her head on, his mouth sinking into an unhappy, pressed line.

"We will speak of this later, Mikael." His mother hissed, clutching his sister to her chest tighter.

"I have no doubt, wife; that we will have to." Mikael rumbled, his eyes turning into dark, storming pits.

"What's the meaning of her name?" Elijah asked suddenly, trying to break the tension in the room.

The burning in his mother's eyes lessen when faced with his brother and she sucked in a breath, and began. "It is an olde name. _auja_ , means good fortune, good luck. _Ey_ , her beginning, is a goddess of the ocean—the sea her girdle, the glaciers her headgear."

"Ey-jah," Elijah drawled, eyes burning with adoration.

As if she heard them, her eyes fluttered, and for a second, Niklaus was sure he'd seen a flicker of something, before she closed them again.

 _Eyja,_ thought Niklaus, _you are welcomed._

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It's been a long time coming, but enjoy :)


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